


Cuddles and Cupcakes

by Ghostigos



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dissociation, Fluff, Kissing, Other, Post-Pacifist Route- Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9745859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostigos/pseuds/Ghostigos
Summary: Chara has a nightmare again. Asriel tries an alternative method to get them to come back out of their shell





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is VERY old and VERY short and ENTIRELY self-indulgent, but hey happy (late) Valentine's Day!
> 
> Content warning for brief mention of panic attacks and dissociation

It's a shame that you have to waste everyone's time with having reoccurring nightmares even years down the line. But you suppose your brain is just always going to be a mystery, and you're just going to gripe about it and hope that it'll get better that way.

It's been a good few years since any sort of traumatic incident has occurred; it's a shame too, because you have no excuse for yourself whenever you slump out of bed feeling like all your inner walls of comfort and protection have shattered within one disturbing dream. You don't recall this one in vibrant detail; you just remember feeling alone, and scared, and blood and dust were mingling on your old green sweater.

You're so shaken and grumpy that you crumple into your sheets with an inner groan. You don't need this anymore; you thought you learned to stop letting the flashbacks control you. But you guess you didn't; you don't bother checking the time because if it turns out to be a number past eleven you're going to feel worse.

You inwardly beat yourself for flinching when you hear the door crack open.

"Chara?" It's Asriel. You assume it's pretty late, considering that his voice sounds worried.

"Go away!" You shriek. You forgot to adjust your volume control. Great. Now he's going to be even more concerned.

The pressure that amounts to your bed confirms your theory. You feel a hand touch your shoulder poking up from under the covers.

Against your wishes, you relax at his touch. It's an automatic response; Asriel would never hurt you; at least, not in this timeline he wouldn't.

But the other timelines are still a dull ache.

You snap away from Asriel's contact and delve deeper into your sheets.

He doesn't protest; you bite back a scream as instead he takes your action as some sort of permission to lay down beside you.

Minutes pass, and you're thinking about how great death would be right now before Asriel finally asks, "Nightmare?"

You respond with a long groan.

He gives a thoughtful "Hm". You feel him reposition himself, and you peek out through the corners of the covers to notice that he's flipped himself towards you.

"It's alright to have those, you know," he reassures you, and drapes an arm over your concealed waist. You don't flinch or attempt to move away again, but you burrow your face into a pillow. The only sign that you exist under the mass pile of scattered blankets is your hair, its wisps spreading outside the safety of the covers.

He tightens his hold on you ever so slightly. "You're safe, Chara," he murmurs, and a smile seeps into his tone. "My sweet blanket burrito."

You let out a quick breath of laughter before you can stop it.

It only encourages him to snuggle deeper into your side. He begins to give the blanket small kisses. "My little bundle of bedsheets," he sings. "My darling pile of pillows."

"You're ridiculous," you mutter.

"But is it helping?" He sounds proud of himself; you could punch his throat.

But you don't. Instead you find yourself cuddling into what you believe is the crook of his neck. "Sure, why not."

A chuckle bellows in his throat. "I can tell. You haven't punched me yet."

"But I could," you confirm.

"But you could," he agrees, and begins to dance his fingers along the strands of your hair.

This nightmare wasn't bad, you decide. You know bad nightmares; you wake up suffocating and detached and in some separate world just outside of reality. You claw and bite and scream and cry and it can take a good hour or two before you resurface, gasping and shaking. You inconvenience those around you because they have to hold you, they have to perform methods that your psychiatrist instructed, and during your worst episodes they have to call in a medic or two to get you breathing correctly and have you digesting stronger pills.

The last time that happened was a good year ago, but you suppose it still shakes you. The dread of ever becoming so fragile again because of some silly, distant little dream is always present around the corner.

You know this time isn't bad because you're feeling fairly grounded. You're talking and breathing right (or as much as you can from the tight squeeze of the blankets) and you're acknowledging Asriel's presence.

"Hold on," he states suddenly, and a rush of emptiness fills your side as Asriel adjusts himself upright and off the bed. "Are you going to be okay for a minute?"

You scoff. "I'm not a child, Asriel Dreemurr." You know he's only asking because a couple of times beforehand, when he's left, you've lost yourself again, or you begin to crumble and lose your breathing; but you're fine now. At least for today.

He leaves you alone for less than twenty seconds. Shows you how much faith he has in your mental stability.

Your anger dissipates when you hear the clanking of plates and cups.

You peek out and see that Asriel's brought you a tiny breakfast tray. Stacked pancakes dripping with syrup and topped with blueberries, bacon, orange juice; he even placed a small flower next to the utensils, the dork.

He sets it down outside of your cocoon. "I was actually going to give you this anyway today, but," he smiles at your eyes protruding from the covers. "I suppose now is just a good time as any."

You fight the urge to sink farther into the covers. Some inhumane piece of you wants to throw the tray across the room, to watch his expression break, to stab the forks into your forearm.

For once, you ask for it to shut up. The pancakes look too tasty to ruin.

You prop yourself up clumsily, your blanket still covering your face. You reach for a fork, but your sanity crumbles at the sight of it. You want to stab something. You want to bleed.

You snatch your hand away.

How disgusting of you.

You lean back into the bedframe with a small groan. Maybe this nightmare was as bad as you suspected.

"Sorry," your voice is muffled by the pillows encasing you.

There's no response, but you hear a few clinks of a utensil. Something is being hovered outside of your pile of misery, and you perk up.

Asriel gives you a warm smile as you oblige and let him feed you. It's childish, but then again, you're used to being babied when it's obvious you can't take care of yourself. Besides, Asriel looks happy; why ruin his fun?

When you're sastisfied with your fill, you lean forward and fall into his lap. You curl into his abdomen, and despite the fact that you probably shouldn't make this any weirder, you let out a small sigh because Asriel feels a lot like if home was morphed into some sort of... Weird...monster goat thing.

You're too tired to think of the proper analogies.

You feel a hand lift off your blanket hat, and you exaggerate a hiss. Asriel laughs and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead.

"Blanket burrito," he hums.

"Is that what you're calling me now?" you ask; your voice is still unnecessarily sharp. You suppose it would be wise to fix that.

"I call you lots of things," he argues. You feel another kiss smother the top of your head. "Sweetie, sweetheart, darling, honey, honey-bunches, honeysuckle, dear, angel, love, cupcake--"

"Not once have you ever called me cupcake," you interject.

A small peck on the ear. "I suppose I should fix that then, cupcake."

You're glad he can't see how warm your face is getting. He didn't even miss a beat with that one. "Have I told you lately how ridiculous you are?"

He gives a thoughtful hum as he kisses your exposed shoulder. "Every day," he answers. "It's kind of your thing."

"Nerd."

"Darling."

You smile. "You should hand me a strip of bacon."

Without hesitation, you feel him reach over and grab a piece from the tray. "I can't feed it to you unless you look up," he says.

"I shan't," you reply, and dig yourself deeper into his stomach to emphasize. "It's a trap."

"A trap?" A mock surprise lightens his tone.

"You do this all the time," you mutter. "You say you're going to feed me something and then you kiss me, deriving me of a delicious meal because my mouth is smothered in goat."

"First of all," he clarifies, "I'm not a goat. Secondly," you hear something close to laughter brightening his voice, "you wanted _me_ to feed _you_. How is that fair?"

"I said you should _hand_ me a strip of bacon," you give a dramatic sigh. "Not _feed_ it to me."

"Well then get off of me and let me give you the bacon."

With a grunt, you loosen your grip on Asriel and hold out your hand. You feel the bacon strip plop into your palm, and as you retract your hand you feel something furry suddenly grab your wrist. You let out a shriek of protest as Asriel brings your clenched fist to his lips.

"I _knew_ it!" you bark. He continues to cover your knuckles with soft kisses. "Now my bacon is contaminated with goat saliva!"

"Not a goat," he repeats. He presses his mouth into the blue veins spiraling down the inside of your wrist.

You groan. "At least when Frisk wants to kiss me, they're less sneaky about it."

"I suppose," Asriel ponders. He's moved back upward towards your fingers and is fluttering small butterfly kisses across your nails. "But then again, I'm not Frisk."

"Yeah, Frisk's makeouts don't involve a lot of fur."

"More memorable that way."

You sigh. "Az, I'm starving. I need hands to eat." You swipe your hand away sharply when you notice that he's about to take your pinky into his mouth. He lets out a small whine.

You open your hand and shove the bacon into your mouth. "Tastes like goat," you comment bitterly.

He looks down at you with a weird gleam in his eye. "You would know, wouldn't you?" he chirps.

You stop yourself from choking.

"Since when did you become Mr. Casanova?" you sputter. You lift yourself off his lap. "And you basically just confirmed you're a goat, so there's that."

Asriel grins. "Worth it. You should've seen the look on your face."

You give him a good slap on the shoulder for that one.

He just laughs and encircles his arms around your waist. "So I guess you're feeling better?"

You pause. You just realized that any whisper of the dream is gone. It seems like a lifetime ago; that's rare. "Yeah," you murmur. You give him a grateful snuggle for that. "Yeah, it's gone."

"Good!" He pulls away to give you a peck on the nose. "I wish all nightmares could be solved this way."

You roll your eyes. "You mean calling me names and making out with my hand?"

"Exactly. It's just what the doctor ordered."

"God save us all if you were ever to become a doctor, then."

He grins. "I'd only make out with the hot patients, of course."

"Oh my god." You untangle your hand from his tight grasp and flick him on the forehead. "You need to stop right now."

He just laughs and begins to trail kisses down your jawline. "Can't help it," he murmurs.

You heave a sigh and wrap your arms around his neck. This was an abnormal episode, you decide. Most of your nightmares never end like this. It ends with someone crying and people panicking because you can't breathe, you can't see, you can't speak.

"Thank you," you whisper. Despite his rather atrocious methods of helping your recover, Asriel did help you stay in the present, with him. The dream is gone now; you can get out of bed today and eat properly and nothing will be weighing you down. At least nothing you can't deal with.

He pauses his kissing session to lean his forehead against yours. His eyes are bright, and you realize that he's happy. He wanted you to stay with him today, and the fact that he made that happen is rewarding enough for him.

You may never figure out why he loves you enough to deal with your outbursts and horrid episodes that can't be solved with all the kisses in the world. But you're glad he's sticking around; you're glad he's here.

Asriel smiles. "Cupcake," he sings.

You punch his other arm.

**Author's Note:**

> So what I like sappy stuff. Sue me


End file.
